


Prize

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 21:23:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12802662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Glorfindel goes to confess his feelings; Legolas beats him to it.





	Prize

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxdeer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxdeer/gifts).



> A/N: Gift for fox-deer, who donated to Alzheimers Research UK for my [karma commissions drive](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/167176922380/karma-commissions) and requested “Haldir/Legolas or Haldir/Glorfindel. I'm kinda feeling a love triangle... perhaps some jealousy”
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or The Silmarillion or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

All week, he’s done all within his power. Though the duty usually falls to Erestor in such cases, Glorfindel took it upon himself to see both parties to their guest rooms—King Thranduil and his prince, and Lord Galadriel and her guard. Legolas was given chambers worthy of a lord, and Haldir, Glorfindel made certain, received just as well. He protested, at first, and said surely there were more humble lodgings for a simple soldier, but Glorfindel took Haldir’s hands and softly spoke of all the many reasons he would not give Haldir any less. He remembers still the way Haldir’s eyes sparkled at him in the low light of the stars, and the graceful way Haldir dipped into a grateful bow at Glorfindel’s parting. Leaving those grand bedchambers was difficult, but necessary.

And all the week’s been difficult, for all the little things Glorfindel has done, the words and deeds and broken starts, full of hope despite the harsh reality. Haldir lives in one land, Glorfindel another, and their meetings are much too few and far between. Seeing Haldir again, after fifty years with only a few harried letters, reminded him that some loves are worth their bitter hardships. So on the final night of the conference, when all three Elven leaders are in their private council, Glorfindel seeks Haldir out to make his final pleas. He thinks it likely that he’ll be rejected, but he at least must speak his heart. Lothlórien’s party will leave tomorrow, as will that of the Woodland Realm, and the next chance might not come for a hundred years.

Glorfindel knows the paths of Imladris well, and he walks along the upper floor to where the guest rooms lie, bathed in early moonlight. The many open balconies are mostly clear, the minstrels long retired, but the view of them is lovely nonetheless. It used to seem far brighter. Now, in the face of what Glorfindel wants most, the beauty of this seems somewhat diminished. It’s missing something.

Until a lone figure strolls out towards the edge, that is. Glorfindel halts in his steps, half hidden under the arch of a doorway, a full building away from where Haldir stands. Out in the open, amidst stone benches and potted gardens, Haldir curls his long fingers around the railing. His golden hair streams back as his eyes lift to the heavens, tracing new constellations. They should be the same, Glorfindel knows, from Haldir’s home, but he’s also ridden far enough to know that no two views are _truly_ identical. It’s too far away to see what thoughts lie in Haldir’s eyes, but Glorfindel finds himself paralyzed all the same, transfixed by the simple sight of his foreign paramour.

Then, before he has the chance to set his legs in motion again, another elf drifts out from the building. Even at a distance, Legolas Greenleaf is instantly recognizable—he’s renowned for his beauty, and it shines all the clearer in the glowing starlight, his silver robes glittering like so many jewels. His pale hair flows delicately behind him, as silken as those robes, and his sweet face melts into sheer delight as he comes to Haldir’s side. Haldir greets him with a subtle smile, one that makes Glorfindel’s chest constrict. He knew this was coming. But he’d hoped to beat it, somehow, and now that seems impossible.

They touch each other, chaste but no less damning—Legolas reaches for Haldir’s arm, and Haldir clasps Legolas’ elbow: a tenuous string of contact that foreshadows so much more. Glorfindel can’t help the bitter jealousy it inspires. He tries to stamp that down. Legolas is a lovely creature, one Glorfindel’s always enjoyed, even desired on occasion, and he hardly deserves the anger with which Glorfindel’s heart now affixes him. A part of Glorfindel hisses that Legolas’ beauty is only that, and it’s all tied up in royalty and youth, while Glorfindel’s strength is raw and learned, ancient and hardened: more befitting of a warrior like Haldir, who deserves a proper peer rather than a pretty trinket. 

But that isn’t fair, Glorfindel knows, and Legolas is skilled in his own ways, even if he might never reach Haldir’s prowess in battle. He’s still brave and kind, and in a way, that makes it worse, as he’s been there the entire week, trying just as hard to seduce Haldir to his bed. For every time that Glorfindel has managed to sit next to Haldir at feasts, Legolas has managed on the next meal, and Haldir and Legolas have ridden off into the fields together more times than Glorfindel could attend in the last few days. He still has his duties about Imladris, while Legolas, a royal guest, had all the time in the world to join and praise and pay Haldir attention, and for all Glorfindel knows, they’re already _more_ to one another.

And Glorfindel, having far less privilege to travel where he might please, can’t compete with that. In no respect can he challenge a prince—even as an honoured lord of old, he doesn’t have the power, the wealth, the sheer gorgeousness that is the Woodland heir. And Haldir deserves all that, so Glorfindel must make his peace.

The proper thing to do would be to simply _leave_ , to disappear back into his home and leave the other lovebirds to their song. But he can’t help himself. They’re speaking quietly to one another, so close that their faces almost touch, and Glorfindel’s cloying jealousy moves his feet without permission. He finds himself withdrawing back under the arches, and he weaves through his home towards the balcony where Haldir and Legolas conspire. A part of him just has to _know_ , has to hear that Haldir is loved and appreciated, before Glorfindel gives up his hope. 

When he makes it to the nearest column, still under the ceiling of the hallway, he halts. The shadows help to hide him while he waits, hoping Legolas will make his leave soon enough, and Haldir won’t go with him. 

From Glorfindel’s new position, he can hear their hushed voices, and it surprises him. Legolas is speaking, not in the lofty purr he’s lured Haldir with all week, but an almost choked, genuine warmth that tugs at Glorfindel’s heart. “I understand,” Legolas forlornly promises, “and I would not ask you otherwise. You love your land, I know, and your desires and well being mean far too much to me to press for anything different. As for the other matter, I...” Legolas’ voice breaks, and it takes him a moment to sigh, “I understand that too. More than you know.”

“Thank you,” Haldir returns. His deep, lilting whisper is the one that’s been in Glorfindel’s dreams, and his eyes close as he listens to it, letting it wash over him while Haldir continues on, “you are too kind to me, my prince. I wish that I could give you everything you ever asked for, but...”

“But you should not, and thus you will not. If you would, you would not be the just being that I have come to respect so wholly. ...Still...” With a soft, bitter laugh, Legolas concludes, “a part of me does wish that you were less so. In my woods, such propriety is less common.”

Glorfindel peeks around the edge to see Haldir open his mouth, only to close it and shake his head. It’s obvious that Glorfindel’s only caught the tail end of a conversation, but he can guess well enough the subject, and it fills him with both guilty hope for himself and empathy for Legolas. Haldir lifts one hand to clasp Legolas’ shoulder, giving it the firm squeeze of one soldier to another, but the setting and the look in their eyes makes the gesture far more intimate. Legolas draws suddenly forward, his arms slipping about Haldir’s sides, hands climbing to press Haldir’s back against him. Haldir melts into the embrace, then strengthens it; he squeezes Legolas close and hooks his chin over Legolas’ slender shoulder. They hold firm for too long, enough for Glorfindel’s fist to clench at his sides. Then they slowly detangle, only for Haldir to bring his palm to Legolas’ cheek, and they hold their foreheads together as their golden hair sways between them, mixing with each other’s strands. 

Haldir whispers, sounding every bit as pained, “I _cannot_ , Legolas.”

“You are right, of course,” Legolas admits, and this compounds Glorfindel’s guilt exponentially—he feels horrible for thinking Legolas only a ‘pretty trinket’ that didn’t truly _value_ Haldir, when it’s clear now that Legolas holds Haldir in the very highest regard, not something to be seduced to bed without respect or thought. “It is part of what I love in you—your commitment to what is true and what is right. And I am glad of it, for as much as I long to learn _all_ of you, it would hurt too much to know you that way only as a parting.”

Haldir strokes Legolas’ cheek. Legolas’ face scrunches up, as though the touch is both blissful and burning, but then Haldir pulls away. Legolas nods and steps free of Haldir’s space. He turns, and then he leaves, swift and sure, past where Glorfindel stands without once looking aside. Glorfindel understands why Legolas can’t look back. Glorfindel hovers where he is, trying to sort out what he’s just heard—clearly, the two wanted one another. It seemed enough so that surely the distance between their woods can’t be the only obstacle.

“My lord?”

Glorfindel pauses, surprised, and peers around the column. Haldir’s eyes stare straight into his, piercing through the dark. Haldir’s chiseled face wears a troubled frown, but it does nothing to counteract his handsomeness, made all the better for their proximity. Glorfindel steps out of his hiding place, reminding himself that it’s part of the reason he desires Haldir so much: those wild skills, honed from centuries of guarding precious things, sharp enough to catch even the most light-footed of watchers. Haldir waits patiently as Glorfindel walks to him.

Glorfindel thinks of now speaking his peace, given that Legolas has gone to sleep alone, but the words won’t come out. It wouldn’t be right. Not now that he’s seen where Haldir’s heart lies. It hurts, but he values Haldir’s happiness enough to hold his tongue. 

But Haldir waits, quiet and expectant, carefully regarding a new element that’s wandered into his territory. Glorfindel thinks of saying something idle, anything, inane and useless, like a compliment to the stars or a farewell for tomorrow, but he knows Haldir would be wise enough to see right through it.

Finally, he comes right out and says it: “I came looking for you, and I am sure you can guess why, after all I have done to be by your side these past few days.” Haldir’s eyes widen slightly around the edges, but he keeps himself in check as Glorfindel finishes, “but I cannot compete with Prince Legolas, and I see now that he loves you just as dearly, and you have feelings for him also.”

For a moment, Haldir is silent. He watches Glorfindel with a sort of lost intensity, and then his gaze falls away, out over the balcony instead, sweeping along the sprawling structures of Imladris. 

It takes some time before he finally answers, “I find myself... both shocked and honoured to be courted by two such elves.” When his eyes return to Glorfindel’s, they’re surer, holding the sturdiness that Glorfindel’s come to love in him. “You are both beyond beautiful, highborn but no less well-worked for it, skilled and... pleasant... to be with. I have enjoyed your visits to my woods, Lord Glorfindel. I always have. But this past week, the way you have been with me...” He trails off, lightly shaking his head, as though to say there are no words he can use. But he manages, “As Men say, you have swept me off my feet. ...And as you have likely seen, and now heard, so has Prince Legolas. You cannot know how greatly it pains me to not return these actions.” Glorfindel nods despite his heartbreak, until Haldir finishes: “With either of you.”

 _That_ gives Glorfindel pause. He stares at Haldir, confused, before slowly concluding, “You... want _neither_ of us?”

Haldir lets out a tart laugh. Usually, Glorfindel loves the way Haldir chuckles—hearty and true. But now Haldir shakes his head and explains, “On the contrary, I want _both_ of you. And thus I am doomed to neither, for I could never do that to a lover—pledge my heart to one with thoughts still of another.” His frown deepens, the disappoint clear in him, though he mutters bitterly, “Of course, this is as it should be. I am only a soldier, and I have no place with prince nor lord...”

Glorfindel’s hand darts out, latching around Haldir’s quick enough that Haldir’s breath hitches. Glorfindel squeezes lightly. He just needs to _touch_ Haldir. He can’t leave them at that.

He steps in to embrace Haldir the way Legolas did, and Haldir stiffens at first, as though his confession should exempt him from this, but then he accepts the touch and returns it. He isn’t one to self-deprecate, only someone practical. Glorfindel savours that lingering warmth before Haldir steps away. 

“In this, you are _too_ righteous,” Glorfindel breathes, and he realizes the irony of that— _he’s_ the one that’s known the ancient ways and the lords that governed them. But things are different now, and the world’s changing. “We live in three different homes, the lot of us, and none has the liberty to leave only for love. We so rarely see one another, and when all three do at once... I am not opposed to Legolas. I am old enough to share well. And...I think that in our case... an... ah... ‘extended’ relationship might actually be easier.”

Haldir only blinks, clearly taken off guard, and mouths, “Extended?”

“Yes.” Glorfindel nods. He finds himself spiraling into this: the obvious solution to the problem, and the possibility to still have Haldir and even a prince on the side. “I enjoy Legolas immensely—now that I know he has not overcome me in your heart—and although you are the prize I sought, I will take both of you if that is your thought. You need not choose. I see no reason why you should. You are young and more than strong; surely you have the energy for both. I would have you happy with whichever of us can reach you at the time, or both of us at once even, for Legolas and I have much in common, not the least of which is _you_.”

Haldir actually steps back. He looks to be reeling, in his quiet, sturdy way. Maybe his sense of propriety is still troubling him, but Glorfindel hopes that he can overrule it—he is, after all, a lord, and if anyone will be to blame for the unusual suggestion, it will be him. He presses, “Let us at least speak to Legolas of this. He is from freer lands, and I think he will be overjoyed at the notion that we need not be enemies, but allies in the keeping of your heart.”

When Haldir only continues to look at him, Glorfindel slowly adds, “That is, if you were truly willing to give it... if not, I will work harder to win it. I will court you now, if you will allow me—”

“No,” Haldir finally says, with a bit of a laugh in his voice, and then it’s happened, and all the emotion comes through at once. He drops his head into his hand and stifles a broad smile behind it—Glorfindel can see the mirth in his eyes. When he moves that hand, it takes him two tries to get out words, with which he says: “You have already wooed me quite enough, and even before you tried, I wanted you from the moment I saw you, riding tall and proud beneath my trees, looking every bit a hero out of legends. I am sorry if I flounder here—it is just that my brothers will never believe me when I tell them of this, of the wondrous fortune I have had here, and the preposterous way you offer to have me keep it all!”

“Keep it,” Glorfindel insists, taking Haldir’s hand again. “I am old, but even Legolas, the youngest of us, will hopefully live many centuries more, and if Men and dwarves love only one other in their lifetimes, surely we have time enough for two. ...Assuming, of course, that our third agrees.”

Haldir grins and doesn’t answer, though he must know as well as Glorfindel that a Woodland elf will be the easiest to bring into such a wild situation. And all three of them have been abroad, seen many things, and earned broader minds.

So Haldir does nod, and laugh, “Very well. But you must forgive me if I am uncharacteristically over-cheerful throughout that conversation; I still cannot believe my luck.”

“Luck, my handsome, talented, intoxicating warrior, has nothing to do with it.”

Haldir grins indulgently, then suddenly leans in to kiss Glorfindel’s cheek, the way he’d cupped and stroked Legolas’. Glorfindel doesn’t expect more until they finish this. 

But he’s looking forward to more. And he guides Haldir back into the building, where they find their third and set jealousy aside.


End file.
